Twelfth Night, an Interpretation
by Haiza Tyri
Summary: A prose interpretation of Twelfth Night, that most delightful and absurd of Shakespeare's plays.
1. The Twins

**Author's note: This is my own interpretation of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, written years ago in college. It is considerably adapted, expanded, and reduced to suit my own fancy at the time. Hopefully it will suit yours as well. It is, after all, subtitled "As You Will."**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

**The Twins**

They were twins, Viola and Sebastien, and never had siblings been bound more by love and misfortune than they. People said it was impossible that a young man and young woman should look as much alike as they did, even for twins, but they had inherited all the best parts of their parents and shared them equally. They had their dead mother's straight, shining hair that in sunlight turned to pure gold and in moonlight shone almost silver, and they had their dead father's warm golden-brown eyes that appeared frank and trusting and hid mischief quietly away. They had their mother's delicate, heart-shaped face and their father's long nose and wide mouth. They had their mother's slender strength and quick, graceful hands and their father's square, firm shoulders, height, and nobility of carriage. As small children, if they were dressed alike, no one could say which was the boy and which the girl, and even now at age twenty-three, if Viola put on Sebastien's clothes and bound her slight figure, only those closest to them could say she was not her brother. They were merry hearted and liked to amaze and astonish others, often tricking people into believing they were brothers or the same person. They were intelligent and studious. Yet as alike and devoted as they were, they had many differences. Viola often said her brother was too apt to give others friendship and love, and Sebastien said that his sister was too apt to be distrusting and to withhold love from others until she knew them intimately. Sebastien loved swordplay and activity; Viola preferred stillness, peace, and creativity, often taking up embroidery or writing songs. Viola was as feminine at heart as her brother was masculine, and they loved each other the better for their differences.

Their father had been a landed duke with great power in Messaline. He had married a gentleman's daughter of a very small fortune, and their love was great until she died when their twins were ten years old. When the twins were fifteen, their father had fallen out of favor and lost his title and lands to the crown. The three of them traveled to many lands on the small fortune they had from their mother for two more years, until the father, never perfectly well since the death of his wife, died. The last six years, Viola and Sebastien had been ever together, traveling far and wide. Then the storm came.


	2. The Storm

**Chapter 2**

**The Storm**

They had endured many dangers together, but never had they encountered such a storm. It battered their ship about the sea until not even the most experienced sailors could say where they were headed. For five days they were driven before it, and the ship was slowly torn to pieces. On the sixth day, a sailor came banging on the doors of the cabins where the passengers were cowering and cried, "The ship is going down! Abandon ship!"

Sebastien snatched up the small box of their most treasured possessions, things that had belonged to their parents, thrust it into Viola's arms, and put his arm around her, leading her out of their cabin. Other panicking passengers pushed them aside to get out to the boats. Slowly they made their way onto the deck. The ship pitched so that they could barely walk, clinging to masts and walls.

"To the boats!" cried the sailors, pushing and pulling them along.

Three boats were already out, full of passengers; only they and a few sailors and the captain remained. The captain seized Viola and thrust her into a boat; then the ship heaved, and Viola watched in fascinated horror as her brother flew over the rail and disappeared into the frothing waves. The sailors and captain flung themselves into the boat and lowered it into the water, leaning over the sides and trying to catch sight of Sebastien. Viola gathered herself up to leap into the water, knowing she could find him, but the captain grabbed her and held her back.

"Let me go!" she screamed, fighting him. "Sebastien!"

"We'll find him!" he shouted at her above the waves, but she didn't hear him.

She screamed, "Sebastien! Sebastien!" in hysteria as the waves tossed them mercilessly, and then darkness seemed to cover the world. She sank down, senseless, to the bottom of the boat, and a massive wave shoved the boat so that they were borne away swiftly, too late.

Viola came to herself hours later as the boat was lifted on a great wave and flung into the air. She found herself falling, expected waves to engulf her, and came down with a thud on wet sand. She didn't move for a long while as waves washed up over her and receded, her whole body aching, her mind confused. Gentle hands came and raised her and carried her out of the water, and eventually she realized that she lay on solid ground, that the sky was blue, and that the captain peered at her with worried eyes. She sat up, groaning at the pain in her back and shoulders and head.

"My child, take care. You may be injured," the captain said. "Let us check you over, and then we shall see what we have come to."

One of the sailors, who knew a bit of medicine, felt her legs, arms, and back, looked over her head thoroughly, and pronounced her unscathed except for bruises. She was allowed to stand up and look around her.

The treacherous sea shone blue and tranquil under the sun. They were on a small, sandy beach amid rocks and trees that stretched into the distance. Three other sailors went about picking up things that had washed ashore from the ship. One of them brought her a small box. "Is this yours, miss?"

It was the little box that had been their parents', full of small things that would mean little to others but were an entire world to Viola and Sebastien. She seized it and burst into sobs. Sebastien! Sebastien was gone, swallowed up by the waves, her brother, her twin, her dearest friend, the only one in the world who meant anything to her. Awkwardly, the sailors left her alone, and she wept until weariness overcame her and she slept.

With a gentle hand, the captain shook her awake. It was dark, and the sailors had built a fire.

"Come eat something, my dear," the captain said. "We salvaged a little food from the ship, and old Ben has caught a couple rabbits and made a stew."

Viola shook her head. "I cannot eat. It would choke me." Her eyes were clouded, and she put her head down on her knees with a painful breath, but she did not cry any more.

"At least take a little broth." He pressed a cup into her hands, and she drank a little of the hot liquid without tasting it.

"What country is this?"

"I believe we are in Illyria, ruled by the Duke Orsino."

"I have heard of him. My father used to speak well of him. He came to his title quite young, I believe." She spoke merely to have something to say, but the captain took it as a good sign.

"So he did. He was but seventeen when he became duke of these lands, almost fifteen years ago, and they say he is a good and wise man. It is also said that he has been several years nearly sick with love for the fair Lady Olivia, but she will have none of him, nor of any man at all. She is in mourning for her father, who died twelve months ago."

"And her brother," one of the sailors added. "He has been dead these six months, and 'tis said she is nigh inconsolable."

Viola raised her head and stared at him. The captain scowled at him and quickly changed the subject.

"My sister lives in Illyria. We will go to her, and she will give us shelter for a few days until we make our way to our homes again. Where is your home? Have you relatives?"

"No. I have no one, and I have no home. Sebastien is—was my only family, and we traveled, making a home nowhere. All that we had was lost in the storm. You spoke of a Lady Olivia just now, who has lost a father and brother as I have. I will go to her and see if she will give me a place."

"She will not. She secludes herself and will see no one and be waited on by none but her butler and maid. I fear you will find no success with her."

"Then I will serve the one who loves her. Perhaps the Duke Orsino, of whom my father knew, will accept me."

"The Duke is a man of strange moods, Viola, and he says he will have no women in his house until Olivia marries him."

Viola shrugged. "That is not a problem. I can pass for my brother exactly."

"My dear, I can tell from your speech and your carriage that you are a noblewoman. You should not go as servant to others, and you should not go among men as a man, unattended and unprotected. There will be many dangers about it."

"Do not say me nay. I have made up my mind and will not be turned from it. I have done it many times, good captain, and no one has discovered my secret. Do not try to stop me." There was such command in her voice and such despair in her eyes that the captain bowed his head and did not argue with her any more.

Amid the things found among the wreckage was a small trunk that Viola hailed with astonishment as Sebastien's. She delved into it and discovered that it was mostly watertight and its contents were unharmed. With a sigh, she pulled out a pair of his trousers, a blouse, and a jacket and held them to her closely for a moment before going away from the men to put them on. When she returned, barefooted, for his boots were too big for her, the captain stared at her.

"But for your hair, I would never have known you were not he."

"It has always been so." She held up a pair of small scissors she had found in the trunk as well. "Does anyone know how to cut hair?"


	3. The Duke

**Chapter 3**

**The Duke**

Two days later, the small group walked into Illyria's main city carrying the few things salvaged from the wreck of their ship. Viola's hair had been neatly trimmed to her shoulders, and she tied it back the way her brother used to wear his. She had adopted his stride, which she imitated easily, and pitched her voice an octave lower, which was not so easy. The captain had asked if they were to call her Sebastien after her brother, but she had shuddered with sudden pain.

"I do not think I could answer to his name unaffected. Call me Cesario, the name I often took when we played at being brothers."

They found their way to the ample house in which the captain's sister lived with her husband, a wealthy merchant, and their six children. A compassionate woman, she welcomed them with tears and an abundance of food. Two days later, Viola prepared to leave with the captain. His sister had insisted that they all stay and rest for a couple days before they went anywhere, and now she told Viola, "You must return and visit me, Cesario. You'll need a few good meals now and again. There is no saying what sort of outlandish food you'll get in a duke's palace."

As she had hoped, a faint smile came to Viola's face. "Thank you. I will."

Approaching the palace on the edge of the city, she wished she could run back to the kind woman's arms and cry on her shoulder. But she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin and entered through the tall stone gates. They walked through exquisite gardens and under massive, overhanging trees until they came to the large wooden doors blazoned in iron with the duke's crest, a ship, a sword, and a lily. Two guards in black, grey, and white with swords at their sides, more ceremonial than anything, arrested them and demanded their business.

The captain introduced himself and said, "I bring a lad who seeks service with his grace."

"Wait here," one ordered and disappeared. A moment later he returned with a tall butler in black. "Follow him."

They followed him through the tall, echoing halls and corridors of the grand house. The captain seemed subdued by the magnificence, but Viola felt at home. Her father's home had been like this, long years ago. This was the sort of place she belonged. But she was here to enter service, not live like a duke's daughter.

The butler led them up wide, curving stairs and into a room where a tall man sat at a desk, his chin supported on a long, thin hand. It took a moment for Viola to realize that this was the duke. The butler was bowing and introducing the captain.

"I have heard of you," the duke said. "You have some renown. What brings you to Illyria?"

"We were shipwrecked here, your grace, but four days ago."

"I am sorry." There was compassion on his face. "Is there anything we can do? I am sure it cannot be too difficult for you to get a new position."

"Thank you, my lord. I intend on returning to my own land in a couple days. My sister lives here and will provide me with everything I need. This young man here, though, would ask of you a position. His name is Cesario, and he was a passenger on my vessel. He lost everything in the wreck and must start again."

Duke Orsino turned his level gaze on Viola and examined her as she examined him. She saw a man in his early thirties, his straight black hair cropped short, a neat mustache and goatee emphasizing his strong chin and jaw and doing nothing to hide the sensitivity of his mouth. His face was thin and his cheekbones high, and his eyes were a blaze of grey. Thought she did not often take to people quickly, she liked this man, liked the firmness of character revealed in his jaw, the intellect in his eyes, and the compassion in his mouth. He would be a good master to work for, if only he would let her.

Orsino liked the young man before him. There was both strength and frailty in him, and mystery and pain as well. His eyes were dark with sorrow, his hands clutched behind him, but he returned the duke's gaze without blinking. He did not look like someone who had been in service before, but Orsino wanted to take him into service, to befriend him and discover the sorrow and fix it.

"What can you do? Have you been trained for anything?"

"I have had a classical education, my lord. I know languages and can translate, and I am quick with numbers. I confess I know nothing of labor, but I would serve you well as a secretary or a page."

He laughed. "Well spoken, Cesario. You come in good time. I have recently lost a secretary and am in need of one. What say you to a trial period of a month?"

"It seems good to me, your grace."

"Then go with this butler. He will acquaint you with your living quarters and all you will need. Return to me when you have finished."

Viola bowed. "Yes, my lord."

At the front doors, she took her leave of the captain fondly, thanking him for all his care, promising to visit his sister and to see him if he were ever in Illyria. An hour later she was back in the duke's study, learning her duties. Much of it would be paperwork, reading and answering letters, translating documents, keeping business accounts straight, and straightening the study, which had fallen into some disrepair since the last secretary's elopement with a chambermaid.

"Being a secretary to a duke is a none too easy task, young Cesario," Orsino said that afternoon.

"Nor is being a duke, my lord."

Orsino laughed. "You speak as though you know."

She did not answer, turning her eyes away from his so that he gazed at her thoughtfully.

Later in the evening, he said, "Do you know music, Cesario?"

"I play the pianoforte, my lord, but I do not sing." She _could_ sing, and well, but she would not sound male if she sang.

"Come, then."

They went into a large room with tall windows through which the setting sun streamed. There were many comfortable couches and chairs and a pianoforte the likes of which Viola had not seen since her father's house. She touched the polished wood reverently. Orsino rang a bell and cast himself down on a long sofa.

"Music is one of my great delights, and if you can play, you will be put to it often."

A page entered. "My lord?"

"Send me the little lad who sings so well. Cesario, find something that you would play and let me hear you. There is music in the cabinet behind you."

She searched until she found something familiar and seated herself, taking care not to do it with the kind of feminine motion that was her wont. Instead she pushed up her sleeves with the motion she had often seen her brother do when they sat to play something together, and the memories rushed to her mind, Sebastien's merry face as he sat next to her, his slender fingers over the keyboard, his voice caroling out the songs. She didn't realize that she had fallen still and tears had filled her eyes until Orsino's voice came gently, "Cesario?"

"I beg your pardon, my lord." She began to play.

When she came to the end of the piece, Orsino said, "You play very well. Now play something that Valentine can sing."

The young page, about ten years old, came forward to stand by her bench as if he had done this many times before. His voice was high and clear, bell-like, and it was plain he loved to sing. It was a pity he would lose the beauty of his voice in a few years. She played and he sang for about an hour, and Orsino lay on his couch with a hand cast over his eyes, unmoving. Their music had roamed from ballads to arias to love songs, and at the end of a moving tale of love, he said abruptly, "Thank you, Valentine. You may leave us. You have sung well, as always."

The boy bowed with a smile and ran out. Viola sat quietly, unsure of what to do.

"If music be the food of love, play on, Cesario. Give me surfeit of it, and perhaps my appetite will sicken and die."

She played until it grew so dark that she couldn't see the music, and then she played from memory until her fingers were tired and aching. The duke was a dark form on the sofa; he hadn't moved in at least an hour, and she wondered if he had fallen asleep. When at last her hands slipped from the keyboard, he gave a start and sat up.

"Why, it's grown dark. What is the time?"

"I do not know, but it has been dark several hours."

"I have been lost in your music and did not notice. You have a magical touch on the instrument. Are you tired?"

"My hands are, your grace, but not the rest of me."

"Then walk with me outside. I am fond of a walk in the dark."

He led her out through the tall windows, which she hadn't noticed were doors, into the gardens of his palace. The moon was brilliant, and its white light made sharp shadows of all the trees and shrubs. A cool, delicious wind blew into their faces, and Viola reached up and loosed the ribbon that bound her hair back so that the wind blew it away from her face.

"This must have been a strange day for you, Cesario," Orsino said. "Usually I am surrounded by attendants and nobles and advisors who all have their own agenda and lists of things I absolutely must attend to or Illyria will go to ruin. I do not often have such a long period of time to listen to music. You have a restful presence." He put an arm lightly around her shoulders, but she automatically stiffened, and he let it slip away. She was immediately sorry, feeling that she had inadvertently refused some comradeship he wanted to offer.

They went without speaking out of a small side gate in the wall around the palace and were in the open countryside, rolling hills that led to the cliffs on the sea and groves of tall, slender trees. Orsino led her away to their right, a long way in silence until they came to another wall. He put his hand on it and walked with his fingertips brushing it.

"This is the outer wall of the Lady Olivia's estate. Do you know of her?"

"Just a little, your grace."

"Ah, I can tell by your voice that you know what all the countryside knows, that I love the fair lady. Fair and cruel. I thought when first I saw her that her very presence made all the air cleaner and brighter. But she has taken a vow to remain behind these walls and mourn her brother seven years. Seven years! The heart that can so love a brother will truly be great in love for husband. But she will not see me. Tell me, Cesario, am I a fool to thus hope against hope and to continue loving where no love is desired?"

Viola could not answer the duke because hot tears poured down her face and choked her voice. _Would that I could shut myself up thrice seven years for my brother's sake!_

Orsino glanced at her when only silence was forthcoming to his question and saw her face wet in the moonlight. _There is pain and loss in you as well, my young secretary. Have you lost someone close to you, a sister or a brother?_ He said nothing, turning and heading back to his own palace, but he put a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she did not shake it off.


	4. The Lady

**Chapter 4**

**The Lady  
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The time seemed to flee swiftly away in Orsino's house, or maybe it was that Viola was so occupied that she had little time to mourn. She spent many hours in the first couple weeks reorganizing his study so efficiently that he was comically dismayed, and she soon found herself enthralled by the mysteries of diplomacy and governing. Orsino used her often as a sounding board, reviewing speeches for her consideration and talking over decisions he had to make.

One day he said to her, "You seem to know much of the work that a duke must do, Cesario, and your comments to me are always wise. What is your parentage?"

Lowering her eyes, she said, "Of as good as yours, my lord."

"You are noble, then? It is impossible to doubt. Why then are you in the position of being in service?"

"My father's lands and title were confiscated. All of my family had died save only my brother and myself until the storm that took the good captain's ship and left me here. In that storm I lost that which was dearest to me in all the world."

"Your brother?" he said gently.

"Aye, and I would not speak of it, please your grace."

"Then we will not, my friend."

When a month had passed, Orsino said nothing to Viola about her position and made no change in her work, so she said nothing about the end of the trial period and continued on as before. A week later, however, he looked up from working at his desk in his study and exclaimed, "I did not note that your trial period had ended, Cesario! It seems as if you have been always here, and I would not give up your excellent service if I were to be paid a treasure for it. Are you content here?"

She turned from where she was filing some papers and smiled at him, and he noted that it was the first time he had seen his young secretary smile. The lad had a singularly sweet smile, for a young man, but his eyes were still sad.

"I am very content here, my lord. I think that I, too, would not give it up for a treasure—unless it were the treasure of my brother's life returned." It was the first time she had spoken of Sebastien voluntarily, and she turned quickly back to her work.

Among her other duties, Viola played the pianoforte for Orsino at least an hour each day, generally late at night when all work was done. Sometimes he had his attendants about him who played or sang and they made a small orchestra, but generally he had only her to play and occasionally young Valentine to sing. Those were her favorite times, when all was dark save a few candles, and she could think unhindered and give up her heart to the music and for a short while not have to be anything but herself. Yet later she would accompany the duke on a walk in the darkness, and they would talk on many subjects, sometimes quietly and sometimes with ringing laughter, but they would always end by the wall around Lady Olivia's estate, and that was the only time he would speak of her.

Viola found her heart touched with pity for the duke, loving a woman who would not see him, though occasionally she found herself wondering impatiently when he would say it was enough and give up his unfounded hope. It was to her astonishment that she realized she had come to see him as a friend. She who did not take easily to people had begun to feel a lively interest in the duke and a compassion for his sorrows. She _liked_ the man, and this surprised her. She had traveled so much over the last few years that she had had little opportunity to know anyone but her brother well, and now, bereft of her brother, she was enjoying becoming friends with Orsino.

In his house she kept to herself and interacted little with his other attendants, but they could easily see how much their lord had come to depend on his new secretary. It was not a matter of jealousy among most of them, for they saw how the lad, so sad of eye himself, lightened the duke's spirits and on occasion drew his mind to matters that had nothing to do with love or the Lady Olivia. Orsino's grand obsession had had his devoted attendants worried about his health and state of mind, but it seemed that perhaps Cesario was helping him.

Some two and a half months after Viola had joined Duke Orsino's household, he had a new kind of errand for her. All the morning he had been quiet and abstracted, occasionally fixing her with a glance as if trying to decide something, and in the afternoon, he said, "Come into the garden with me, Cesario. I have a request to make of you."

They went out into the trees. It was a warm, still afternoon, the sky a clear blue above, birds calling to each other from the trees. Orsino said, "Of late, Cesario, I have revealed to you the full book of my secret soul; you know no less than all of what is in my heart. But I cannot gain access to the Lady Olivia. All my letters come back unopened, my gifts are returned, and she will not hear the words from my mouth. Therefore I want you to go to her. Do not allow them to deny you access; tell them you will stand outside her doors until you take root there."

Viola was silent a moment, startled by the request. "My lord, if her sorrow is as deep as has been told, she will not see me."

"Nay, I do not think she will refuse you. No men will she see, but those who say you are a man would lie."

"My lord?" she faltered, her heart in her throat.

"Why, lad, your voice is still clear and uncracked, your lips are as smooth and red as any maiden's, and I despair of you ever filling out to a man's size." He grinned sideways at her. "I believe she will see you, as young a lad and guileless as you appear to be." He gave her a paper. "Learn these words that I have written here that will display a corner of my heart and see if they will not sway her."

"I will do my best to woo your lady," Viola said reluctantly.

Outside the palace grounds, she walked slowly in the direction of Lady Olivia's estate, pondering why she was so loath to do this job for him. Surely she should desire his happiness in gaining Lady Olivia's hand? Should she not do all that she could to help her friend and master to that end? All she could see was that something in her shied away from any thought of change in the ordering of his household. Why could he not be happy as it was, with the ever-interesting tasks of diplomacy and good companionship? A thought stopped her dead in her tracks. _Am I in love with him? But that is absurd! I have known him only two and a half months! And he sees me as his secretary, never knowing what I really am. Viola,_ she scolded herself, _how fanciful you are. You truly need your brother's guidance, now that you have it not. Now, prove to yourself that you are not in love with him: go and woo his lady with your greatest skill and poetic speeches._ She applied herself fiercely to the paper the duke had given her and had learned off his words by heart by the time she approached Olivia's front gates.

She passed through the tall, iron-wrought gates, ignoring her sinking heart. The broad drive was lined with weeping willows and other graceful trees, contrasting with the sturdy and slender uprightness of the trees Orsino kept on his grounds. Here the flowers were delicate and set in ordered beds while Orsino's were of hardy kinds that climbed and were seemingly allowed to run riot, tamed only by the skilled hands of his gardeners. Orsino was a kind of man who liked open spaces and wild beauty and sharp wind, while it seemed that the Lady Olivia preferred things well-ordered and finely cultured. Viola was slowly learning to love the same kinds of places that Orsino did; where once, not so long ago, she had shuddered when looking on the sea that had taken her brother, now the sharp tang of its wind and spray enlivened her, and she enjoyed the wild loneliness of the hills and plains so near her master's palace. With a sigh, she continued on to the doors of Lady Olivia's large stone chateau.

A tall, pompous–looking butler met her at the doors. "May I help you?" he inquired, looking down at her with a supercilious air.

"I would see the Lady Olivia"

"The lady does not see anyone. Good afternoon." He started to close the door, but she thrust her foot in it.

"I shall not move until I am admitted to her."

"I shall have you removed."

"I shall return. I shall climb the wall if necessary and take my stand before this door. I shall build myself a house before the door out of these trees here and stay until she sets her foot outside." Dredging up the memories of having been a duke's daughter, she looked him in the eye and commanded, "Do not hinder me! Go and tell her what I have said and see what she will say."

The man gave in. "Wait here."

Viola seemed to wait a long time, and just as she was about to start knocking on the door, it opened again. The tall butler said, "Come with me. You will see at least her handmaid."

She followed him through the house to a slightly darkened room where a lady in black sat. A veil was cast over her features, but Viola could see that she was small and slender. She clasped her well-formed white hands before her, and seeing them, Viola knew she was no handmaid. She grinned to herself before beginning the speech Orsino had given her.

"Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty—" She stopped, changed her mind. "Nay, I will say nothing unless I say it to the Lady Olivia's face. You are she, are you not? Come, why not admit it and hear the good Duke Orsino's words yourself?"

"So you come from the duke, do you? You are correct; I am Lady Olivia, but I do not desire to hear from him." Her voice was low and sweet.

"Good lady, do you know him? Did you know him, I do not think you could refuse him, and he loves you with as great a love as any woman could desire."

"I know well enough of him. I hear he is virtuous, noble, young, handsome, learned, valiant, and wise. Yet I love him not, and the only love I desire is from my family, who are gone." The same sorrow Viola felt was in her tone, and Viola must have betrayed it, for Olivia said, "I see by your face that you understand me. Therefore can you not leave me with the rest of your message unsaid?"

"Nay, lady, for I cannot stint on the errand my lord sends me. Will you not let me see your face?"

"To what purpose? So that Orsino may publish odes to it?" Nevertheless, she drew off her veil and lifted her chin so that Viola could examine her as she desired.

She was so very young! Several years younger than Viola herself, and Viola could understand why Orsino should have fallen in love so quickly with her and remained so. She was lovely, with thick, dark curls, large grey eyes, and a face as delicate as a flower, but that was not it. She was one of those rare women who have a power of attraction to draw all others to them in love, whether it be the love of a man for a woman or of a woman for a sister. An air of sweetness and grace was about her though it trembled with sorrow.

"Ah, Lady, you are cruel to hide your beauty away from others and to refuse marriage and thus leave no copy of it behind for others to enjoy."

"Well, if it is copies you want, I shall have a description drawn up and sent round the city. 'Item, two lips, somewhat red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to them; item, one neck, one chin,' and so forth. Is this why you were sent, merely to praise me?"

"No, but to tell you with what a great passion my lord and master loves you."

"How does he love me?" She seemed a little bored, and Viola longed to shake her and make her understand what a thing it was to be loved by the Duke Orsino.

"With groans that thunder love and sighs of fire! With tears, my lady, and it is no small thing to have such a lord weep for you!" She remembered him the evening before, sprawled his length on the sofa as she played, and how suddenly the serenity was broken by a sound that almost frightened her. She had stopped playing to stare at him as in the light of the candles tears poured from his eyes, but he motioned to her to continue, and so she did, subdued by the depth of a strong man's tears.

The memory was in her eyes as she stood before Olivia, and the lady said in her sweet tone, "I know it is, my good young man, and I pity him, but indeed pity is all I can give him. Get you to him and bid him give his love to another, more worthy recipient whose thoughts are not already occupied with sorrow. And tell him to send to me no more—unless you will come again to tell me how he takes it, because I do pity him." As she said this, a tinge of color came into her pale cheeks, and Viola wondered if there might not be hope for her master after all.

Viola gave her the kind of bow she had often seen Sebastien give a pretty maiden. "Farewell, fair cruelty."

As she left the grounds, footsteps came running after her. She turned to see Lady Olivia's butler. He came to a dignified stop and held something out to her.

"Lady Olivia returns you this ring that you left with her, young man," he said. "She says also that you are to convince your master that she truly will not love him. And also that you must not speak to her of him again, except to tell her his reaction to these news. Take the ring back."

"I gave her no ring!"

He drew himself up. "I cannot account for your actions, only for what my lady tells me. Take it!"

"It is not mine, nor my master's. Bear it back to your mistress."

Viola turned and walked away. _Why did she do that? She knows I gave her nothing. And why send her man after me to tell me what she herself told me? She blushed when she said it the first time, and I took it to mean that she did not speak truth about my master. But—oh, no. Can it be that she likes _me?_ In my man's garb, I am the living image of my brother, my dear Sebastien, who was always attractive to women. That is most unfortunately possible. Oh, poor lady! She will sigh to no end. It would be better if she were to love a dream. Perhaps it were a foolish idea to take on this disguise. But it is on, and I must see it through. As much for my master's sake as for mine. Why can she not love him? Can she not see that he is in every way worthy of love? If he were to give me half the love that he gives her, I would call myself blessed._

Her steps came slower as she realized that she had just admitted to herself that she did indeed love the duke. _For I know him, and he is indeed well-worthy of love. Little did I know what I was plunging myself into when I took on this garb and these duties. For he loves her, and I must confess that I do love him, a little, and she seems to like me. What will become of this? Only time can untangle this, not I; it is too hard a knot for me to untie!_ It was only then that she realized that she had completely forgotten the duke's speech, and Olivia had heard none of it.

When she arrived at Orsino's palace, he appeared as soon as she entered the grounds, seized her arm, and drew her away under the trees. "Did you see the lady? What did she say?"

Viola tried to figure out what to say, looking on him with new eyes, a woman's eyes. Then she shut out all except the knowledge that she must break his heart with her news.

"Your grace, I beg you not to raise your hopes too high. Hope often proves false."

"_Tell me!"_

She sighed. "I was allowed to see her, my lord, though at first she pretended to be a handmaid. I confess I did not get so far in our conversation as the speech you gave me, but I protested to her your virtues and declared how truly you love her so that at the last she deeply pitied you—"

"In women pity often leads to love," Orsino observed, a light in his eyes, his hand falling on her shoulder.

"I would not have you think so of this lady, my lord. She heard me only because I would not leave until she did so, and many times she stated that she could not love you. Oh, my lord, it is but a few months since she lost a most beloved brother, and how could she ignore her sorrow so far as to give her love to another man?" She wanted to blush as she said this, remembering her suspicions, but she did not. "Indeed she even sent her butler after me to press the issue, that you must be convinced that you cannot have her love." His hand on her shoulder was trembling, and she wanted to weep for the look in his eyes. "My good lord, I am so very sorry that I must bear this news to you."

He squeezed her shoulder until she bit her lip and turned her head away to hide the tears in her eyes, though she wasn't sure if the tears were for the pain in her shoulder or the pain in her heart.

"No one knows the future," he said, his voice unsteady. "How can she know what she will feel in a year or even a month? She pitied me, you say, and I say there is hope in that."

"My dear lord, I protest that there is none."

He gave her a smile, though his hand still gripped her shoulder. "Aye, but you are but a very young man, a mere lad. What do you know of the ways of women?"

"I know some, my lord." She moved restlessly, and he removed his hand. She tried to be inconspicuous as she raised her hand to rub her shoulder, but he caught the motion.

"I fear I have hurt you, Cesario. I beg your pardon. I forgot myself."

"I do not care about any pain you give me, my lord."

"Diplomatically said, but I would not willingly give you pain. You must have it seen to."

"It is nothing, your grace. Think no more of it."

And she would hear no more of it, so he dropped the subject, but she was glad it had drawn his mind away from the previous subject. He said no more on it for several days, but he threw himself into his work with a feverish energy, and in the evening he requested pieces of music from her that told her he had not put the matter out of his mind.


	5. The Friend

**Chapter 5**

**The Friend  
><strong>

In a town on the seacoast outside Illyria, two men stood arguing near the town's stagecoach stop. One, who was tall and brown haired, homely but kind and virtuous of face, said, "Will you not stay longer, or let me go with you?"

"I cannot," the other, a little shorter, pale haired, and well-featured, answered. "I have suffered so much misfortune that I fear some of it may be transferred to you if you spend more time in my company. It would be a bad repayment for your kindness and friendship."

"At least tell me where you are going," the first man persisted.

"I would rather not tell you, but I know you have such modesty and good manners that you will not press me to reveal what I do not want to, and therefore I must respond likewise and tell you. I told you, Antonio, that my name was Roderigo, but it is not. My name is Sebastien, and my father was that Sebastien who was Duke of Messaline long ago. When he died, he left behind him myself and my sister, born the same hour I was, and would that we had ended the same way! For the day you rescued me from the sea, she was drowned."

"Oh, alas!" cried Antonio.

"Alas, indeed," Sebastien said, gazing out toward the sea. "She was exactly like me, yet people said she was beautiful. She is drowned in salt water, and I think I shall likewise drown her memory in my own salt water." His breast heaved, and he sank down on a bench with his head in his hands. Antonio sat beside him and passed an arm around his shoulders while he wept briefly but bitterly. When he had recovered himself, he murmured, "Forgive me."

"No," Antonio said. "Let me instead go with you, to be your servant if necessary." The stagecoach was approaching.

"The only thing I wish from you is what you took from me, the chance to die with my sister. Yet you have been a good friend to me, so I will not allow you to accompany me to your ruin, for I am going to Illyria, to the Duke Orsino's court. I heard my father speak well of him, so there I shall go, but I know you have enemies there." He stood up and clasped the other man's hand, embraced him. "Farewell, good Antonio. I hope to meet you again, in a better hour." Then he swung aboard the stagecoach and was gone.

Antonio stood staring after him. _Aye, Illyria is dangerous for me. Yet I have never had a brother, and now that I have met one whom I would call brother, shall fear of enemies keep me from accompanying him? I will go._


	6. The Suit

**Chapter 6**

**The Suit  
><strong>

"Come, Cesario, play that tune again, and this time Valentine will sing the words," Orsino said on a cool evening about a week after Viola had gone to Lady Olivia. "They do rather speak to my mood."

Viola played, and the boy sang the doleful words to the song which sounded odd in his young mouth.

"Come away, come away, death,

And in sad cypress let me be laid;

Fly away, fly away breath;

I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,

O, prepare it!

My part of death, no one so true

Did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet

On my black coffin let there be strown;

Not a friend, not a friend greet

My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown:

A thousand thousand sighs to save,

Lay me, O, where

Sad true lover never find my grave,

To weep there!"

She didn't like the song and thought it made her master's mood even lower, so she was pleased when he dismissed Valentine and bid her walk outside with him. It had been a busy week, for it had seemed as if all of Illyria had had business with the duke. He had spent long hours in his council chambers and had had scant time to relax and listen to music or stroll in his gardens under the moonlight.

Orsino said with a sigh, "If you ever love, lad, remember me in its sweet pangs. All true lovers are like me, you know, restless and unable to concentrate on anything but the thought of the creature who is loved."

Viola did not answer, gazing gloomily at the ground, and the duke examined her face for a long moment.

"Why, young as you are, my boy, I would stake my life on it that you have looked with love on someone. Have you not?"

She couldn't lie to him; never mind that her very presence before him was based on a deception. And even if she spoke the truth, that very deception would protect her. "A little, my lord."

"What kind of woman is she?"

Viola faltered, "Somewhat like you, your grace."

"She is not worth you, then. And how old is she?"

"About your age, your grace."

"My age! Too old, by heaven! A woman should take a man older than she, and you, lad, let your love be younger than you are." He smiled with amusement on his secretary's flushed cheeks and walked on a little in silence. Gradually the smile faded from his lips. "I have another task for you for the morning that is like the last, Cesario. I have of late wondered whether a reason that the Lady Olivia will accept no suitor is that she fears they have baser motives than love of herself. Go to that same sovereign cruelty and tell her that my love is noble and does not prize all the tracts of dirt that her fortune has bestowed on her. Tell her that it is the fortune of herself, that miracle and queen of gems of her being that attracts me."

"But what if she will not love you, sir?"

"I will not be answered so."

"But you must. What if, sir, there was a lady as in love with you as you are with Lady Olivia? You cannot love her, you tell her, and she must accept it."

Orsino brushed that preposterous idea away with his hand. "No woman's heart could bear such a passion as mine! No woman's heart is big enough. What they feel may, compared to mine, be called merely an appetite that surfeits quickly and revolts at more. Mine is as all as hungry as the sea. Oh, do not compare the love a woman may bear me with mine for Olivia!"

"Aye, but I know—" began Viola, stung, but caught herself.

"What do you know?"

She cried passionately, "I know too well what love a woman may bear a man! In faith, they are as true of heart as men!" She bit her lip. "My father had a daughter, my lord, who loved a man as much, perhaps, as I should love your grace if I were a woman." Her brain was screaming at her to be quiet, but she could not stop her tongue.

"And what is her history?" Orsino asked gently, seeing the pain in his secretary's eyes but not knowing the emotion behind it.

"A blank, my lord. She never told her love, and her concealment ate away at her. She sat like patience on a monument, smiling at grief. Was this not love indeed? Men may say more, swear more, but it is often a show with words that prove more than actions."

"But did she die of her love, my lad?"

They had come to the cliffs overlooking the sea, and Viola gazed out almost without seeing it, the wind blowing her hair back. "I am all the daughters of my father's house, my lord." _For once I may tell him the truth, but he does not understand it._ "Aye, and all the sons, too." She sighed. "Will you have me go to the lady, my lord?"

"Yes. My heart will not accept a denial."

So she went and met the lady walking in her own garden, attended by her maid, Maria, a large man who was her uncle, Sir Toby Belch, and a young man who trailed disconsolately after them with mournful eyes and a hand on his sword. This was Sir Andrew Aguecheek, a favorite of Sir Toby, who was pressing his suit with the Lady Olivia. When Olivia saw Duke Orsino's secretary approaching, she smiled a little and, waving the others aside, went toward her.

"Good morning, young man."

"Most excellent and accomplished lady, the heavens rain odors upon you," Viola hailed her, speaking Orsino's carefully-wrought words and feeling rather idiotic. The man in the company of Sir Toby gave her a dark look. She gave him a dark look back. "I will speak to no one but yourself, good lady."

"Return to the house," Olivia told the others. "I will hear what this young man has to say. And you, Sir Andrew, I will not hear you. Return to your home." She took Viola's arm and led her away from them as they slowly went into the house, Sir Andrew looking blacker than ever. "What is your name?"

"Cesario is your servant's name, my lady."

"My servant? Never! You are the servant of Duke Orsino."

"And he is your servant, and therefore his servants are yours. I have come to speak to you on his behalf."

"I never think about him, and I asked you not to speak to me about him any more. Now, if perhaps you were to bring me a different suit . . ." She peeked up at Viola from under her eyelids with a very becoming blush.

Viola pretended not to know what she meant. "Duke Orsino's is the only suit I bring. I know of no others, and he alone is my master."

"And I know very well what he thinks and what he says and all the vagaries of his desire. Cesario, what do _you_ think of me?"

Viola gave her a cool glance. "I pity you, my lady."

"Pity? Well, that is close enough to love."

"That is what my lord said of your pity, yet I did not think you meant anything by it but pity. Lady Olivia, I am not what I seem. You give your liking too quickly to one who does not deserve it and does not want it. I have only one heart, and no woman shall be mistress of it save I myself. Farewell, madam, if you have nothing to say to my master. I shall leave you now, and I hope I need not return again to tell you of his tears."

Yet despite the news she had to bring to the duke of Olivia's refusal of his love again, he sent her again some days later and many times after in the following weeks. She went more and more reluctantly each time, and each time Olivia allowed her entrance and heard Orsino's suit with growing impatience but always made some excuse to bring the duke's secretary back another time. Viola never told her master of his love's liking for her in Sebastien's guise, but she chafed under it and wished, as much as she liked the lady for her own sake, never to have to go to her again and never to have to bear Orsino's suit against her own heart.


	7. The City

**Chapter 7**

**The City  
><strong>

It was in this time that Sebastien came to Illyria and took up temporary lodgings at an inn called The Elephant. He was about to look about the city when he saw a familiar face.

"Antonio! What are you doing here? It is a danger to you—though you never did tell me why. Why are you here?"

"Sebastien, I would not so soon lose the friend and brother I have found in you. The love I bear you is worth more to me than safety. And I knew also that you know nothing of these lands and their dangers, and I would not have you go without a guide."

Sebastien sighed but looked more cheerful than he had before. "I would not have had you come, but I confess I am glad of it. My thanks, Antonio, for your good friendship. Well, what shall we do now? Will you tour the city with me?"

"No, I would rather remain at The Elephant, for I am very well known here. I came against the duke of these lands in a sea fight, and his people have not forgotten it. But here, take my purse. I know you have little enough money to spend. As brothers, we shall share all we have. If you wish to appear before Duke Orsino, you will need clothes other than those you were in when I took you from the sea."

Sebastien accepted the purse reluctantly and found it astonishingly heavy. "I'll bear your purse and purchase clothes, Antonio, but I will not spend more of your money. Farewell for a time. Take care that you are not seen."

So Sebastien went out into the city, and Antonio turned back to The Elephant and took a room. Some hours passed in boredom for him, and eventually he began to be worried about Sebastien. What had become of him, alone in a strange city? Pausing only to buckle on his sword, he took to the streets to find him.

Antonio had been wandering for perhaps an hour when he saw some guards of the city and ducked into an alleyway. He did not know if they had seen him or if they would recognize him if they did see him, but he hurried down the alley and into a busy street and around a corner. There were more, so he moved on again and soon realized that he had come to the edge of the city and mislaid his objective, which was to find Sebastien. But the whole complement of the city's guard seemed to be out simply because he was, and there were a couple more at the far end of the street. There was a wall on one side of the street, and ahead he saw an archway; he ducked into it, trying to look as if it were his business to do so.

He was in some noble's private grounds, undoubtedly, and to his astonishment, he saw Sebastien there, sword held limply in his hand, backing away from another man's sword. Without hesitation, Antonio drew his own and sprang forward.


	8. The Duel

**Chapter 8  
><strong>

**The Duel  
><strong>

Viola had gone, yet again and much against her will, to the Lady Olivia's. After almost a month, she was heartily sick of it. On occasion it came into her mind to do _something,_ to argue Orsino into a conviction of Olivia's indifference to him or to refuse to go, but she did not have the heart to refuse her master's will when she saw his face miserable and his mind distracted. But she was miserable in it, and it did not help that on occasion her mind would flash back to the simple, merry life she had lived with Sebastien, and she would mourn him as much as ever. Today Lady Olivia had been even more exasperating than usual, and it did not help that Viola could not help liking and pitying her. With absolute sweetness and an unconsciously attractive manner, she tried her best to get her own way and was crushed by denial, but not for long, for she would bound up again irrepressibly to try another way to get what she wanted. One couldn't help being sympathetic to her even when she exasperated. Somehow she reminded Viola of Sebastien.

As she prepared to leave the house, Olivia followed her and accused her, "Your heart is of stone, Cesario." Her manner became somewhat apologetic. "I have said too much and perhaps sullied my honor. Yet with a heart like mine, I cannot keep quiet!"

_I can,_ Viola wanted to say. _There are some of us who can love in silence._ "My master's grief is much like yours, Lady."

Olivia ignored it and pressed something into her hand. "Accept this small gift from me, Cesario. It is only a portrait taken of me and will do you no harm to take it. You will never take so much as a cup of tea from me, and it would please me if you would ask anything of me, for what do I have that I will not give you?"

Viola took her gently but firmly by the wrist, opened her hand, put the little portrait into it, and closed her fingers around it. "I ask only this: your love for my master." And her heart protested as she said it, but she held her head high.

"It would do a great wrong to my honor to give him what I have already given to you," Olivia said with a stamp of her foot and a shake of her dark curls so that she looked vexed and charming all at once.

"Then I will take my leave of you." Viola strode away without a backward glance.

"Do return tomorrow!" Olivia called after her.

Viola was shaking her head, almost amused at how Olivia would brook no denial. _She is much like my master in this. Perhaps . . . perhaps they are right for each other, both as stubborn as stone and as faithful. But no, she is too frivolous for him._ Comforted in this, she came almost to the gate before she noticed that someone was following her.

It was Lady Olivia's uncle, Sir Toby. "God save you, young gentleman," he said.

"And you, sir."

"Step this way with me, please." He took her arm and led her, whether she wanted to or no, around the back of the house and away into the grounds. "I bid you to prepare yourself, sir, for there is one here who has had much wrong from you, and he is passionate with fury and challenges you."

"What? I am afraid you have mistaken me for someone, sir. I have done no one wrong; my conscience is very clear."

"You will find it otherwise, I assure you. You had better draw and guard yourself, for he is just a step farther on, and he will attack as soon as he sees you."

"Who is he?"

"A very valiant knight and gentleman, sir."

"Well, I have done him no wrong, unless it is some error of negligence. I have harmed no one with any purpose." She wrenched her arm free and started toward the house. "I shall go and ask the lady to give me guards, for I am no fighter. I would rather be a priest than a warrior."

"Stay!" cried an unsteady voice.

Viola turned to see Sir Andrew, the protégé of Sir Toby, coming toward her like a scarecrow, his clothes flapping about his thin frame. Was he drunk? She sighed. "Will you inquire of him what the wrong is he thinks I have done him? I would rather repair it than fight him."

"I will."

Sir Toby marched toward Sir Andrew, and Viola clutched her cold hands together. _I am such a coward. Why did I not allow Sebastien to teach me sword fighting? Why did it not occur to me that in man's garb I would be expected to act like a man and to fight like one? Alas that under my man's appearance I have but the heart of a maid._

Olivia's uncle returned. "There is nothing for it, good gentleman. Nothing will stop him from fighting you, he is in such a fury."

"But why?"

"You have usurped my niece's good will. Sir Andrew was in a fair way to gaining it, but you stole it away from him."

"I do not want it! He can have it!" Viola cried. "If he can manage to make her love him, I shall be all the more pleased."

"Will you stop coming here?"

She glanced at him sharply. What was his game? "I cannot, for I come at my master's will, not mine own."

"It is all one to him. He will fight you."

Viola took a long look at Sir Andrew. His mouth was drawn up in a scowl at her, but his cheeks were pale. _He looks as frightened as I am. Is Sir Toby trying to goad us both into a fight neither wants? Is he bored? Or does he want to make Sir Andrew into a kind of man who can win his niece?_ "I will not fight him," she said firmly.

But Sir Andrew had drawn his sword. "Stand and defend yourself!" he cried.

_Well, if he is frightened, too, maybe it won't be so bad. I may come out merely wounded instead of dead._ She drew her sword. "I assure you, this is against my will," she told Sir Andrew.

Suddenly into their midst dashed a tall figure with drawn sword. "Put up your sword!" Antonio commanded Sir Andrew. "If this young gentleman has offended you, I will take the fault for it, or if you have offended him, I defy you for him."

Viola stared at him. It seemed like providence, this sudden rescue by a stranger.

"Who are you?" Sir Toby demanded, his face darkening.

"One who will give you more than you asked for, for love of the gentleman you are assaulting."

"As you like it." Sir Toby drew his sword.

"Stay! This is folly!" Viola protested. "What—"

But Sir Andrew interrupted. "Officers are coming! Sheath your swords!" He was sliding his into his sheath with as much haste as his shaking hands could manage, and the others did likewise just as two guards came in through the archway.

"Aye, he's the one," one of them said, pointing out Antonio. "Arrest him."

"You have mistaken me," Antonio protested as the other came toward him with his sword drawn.

"Not in the slightest," said the first. "I know your features well, though you do not have a sea cap on. I was in that battle in which your brigands attacked my ship and wounded my captain. I cannot mistake you. Take him away."

Antonio bowed his head. "I must obey. This comes of seeking you," he said to Viola, who stared at him uncomprehendingly. "But there is no remedy. Please, I would ask of you that purse I gave you a few hours ago so that I may pay my way out of prison. It saddens me that I must ask it, for what will you do now? Indeed, I feel worse about that than about my own misfortunes. But please, the money."

"What money? Sir, for the kindness you have shown me, I would gladly give you half of all I have, which is little enough, but I know nothing of a purse."

"What? Do you deny me? I did not think it possible of you. I will not be so rude as to name the kindnesses I have done you."

"I know of none, good sir, except what you did just now. Please believe me: I hate all ingratitude, and I hope never to find it in myself, but I have never seen your face before."

"Oh, heavens!" cried Antonio. "I snatched you out of the very jaws of death, housed you in my home, followed you here for love of you to my peril, as you can see, and you deny me?"

"Come," said one of the officers, unmoved.

"I had thought to make you my brother!" Antonio continued, not noticing. "But I see that your fair features were just a mask for hypocrisy, and my trust and love are all for nothing." He sighed, and tears stood in his eyes. "Come," he said to the officers. "I will go with you willingly."

Viola stared after them wonderingly, pity in her heart for the man's grief but also a total lack of comprehension. "I think he believed himself," she murmured. "But I did not. Can he be mad? But there was such a look of truth about him." She wandered away through the arch into the street, leaving Sir Toby and Sir Andrew to look at each other and shrug.

"The coward," muttered Sir Toby.


	9. The Misunderstanding

**Chapter 9  
><strong>

**The Misunderstanding  
><strong>

Sebastien wandered through the streets. He had returned to The Elephant several hours ago and found no Antonio there, nothing but the news that the gentleman had gone out, so he had gone out himself again to look for him. As he paused to look up at the scrollwork of an iron gate that reminded him of the gateway before his father's house, long ago, two men came hurtling out of it. The tall, skinny one came right up to him, said, "There's for you," and punched him in the jaw. His head rang, and what thoughts he could hold together were all astonishment, but he obligingly punched the man back, not once but thrice.

"And there's for you," he said when he could move his jaw again.

The fat man caught his companion, who leaned on him helplessly for a moment.

"I thought you said he was a coward," the skinny one complained.

"Are you mad?" Sebastien demanded.

The fat one seized his sleeve, but the skinny one said, "No, leave him, Sir Toby. I won't fight him. I'll have him up for battery. I did hit him first, but that's no matter."

"Let go of me!"

"No, sir, I will not let you go. You will fight this time."

"If you do not let me go, I will fight you! Draw your sword, sir!" Sebastien said staunchly.

"So that is how it is, is it, my young cub? Very well." Sir Toby released him.

But they had scarcely crossed swords when a woman came flying out of the gateway. "Sir Toby! For shame! Will you always be brawling in the streets and starting fights with the nearest passer-by? You are fit for a cave, not my home!" She turned to Sebastien. "I beg your pardon for my uncle's conduct. Will you not come into my home?" She took his arm and glared at her uncle. "Get you gone!" She smiled up at Sebastien. "I am sorry he has botched up our meeting today. When you left earlier, I did not think you would come back, but I am so very pleased you have."

He found himself staring at her and being drawn along, unresisting. He thought he had never seen a lovelier maiden nor a more enchanting manner. "Am I mad? Or dreaming?"

"Neither, I hope, good Cesario."

"Cesario? I am not Cesario—"

She laughed. "I catch your meaning. You have come here when your master is not aware of it, when it is not your duty, so of course you are not Cesario. It must never come to the duke that Cesario is making quiet visits to Olivia. What shall I call you, then?"

"Whatever you like, but my name is Sebastien."

"Sebastien? A good name. Your father's name perhaps? But I do like Cesario very much, so you must forgive me if I call you by that on occasion. Cesa—Sebastien, will you be ruled by me?"

"In all things," he declared grandly.

"This is very unlike your previous mood, but I will not protest, for I like it much better. Have tea with me—perhaps you are hungry? And then I shall tell you what I have thought of."

In a daze, Sebastien found himself in a room the likes of which he had not seen since he and his father and sister had left their home in Messaline, being served tea and delicate sandwiches and cake while the lady talked gaily.

"Here is my thought. If you will come to see me quietly sometimes, I will promise to listen and be silent when you come officially to bring Duke Orsino's suit. I shall be absolutely decorous and circumspect on those occasions if only you will see me on other occasions as well."

"If ever I shall be so mutton-headed as to bring another man's suit to you—" he shook his head. "May a pox take me. And I will come to see you, for you are very lovely."

She smiled enchantingly. "All this time you have been so ungracious to me, and it was only because you had an errand to do that conflicted with your desires. Now I understand you. Now that you have taken tea with me, as you never would before, will you take also this picture?" She laid it by his plate. "I must go to give commands to my servants not to mention your coming, but I shall return shortly."

She sped out, leaving Sebastien feeling as dazed as when he had come in. He took up the picture and went to the window to look at it in better light. _This is the air, that is the glorious sun in the sky, this exquisite beauty in this portrait—I see and feel it. I am in wonder, but I am not mad. Perhaps it is the lady who is mad. But if she were, how could she order her house and give commands to her servants, and not be shut up? She has every appearance of sanity, save that she thought she knew me, and so did her uncle and his friend. Is it some joke in this city to treat strangers thus, as deadly enemies or dearest friends, in an instant? Yet it is not unpleasant. No, not unpleasant at all. But where is Antonio?_

Sebastien returned to his lodgings in the evening, much perplexed but also feeling himself inclined to fall in love. His mind was so taken with the fair and strange Lady Olivia that he hardly noticed for a while that he did not see Antonio anywhere. When he did realize it, he charged down to find the owner of the establishment and demand whether his friend had returned. No one had heard from him, he learned. He returned slowly to his room, pondering. He didn't think Antonio had been arrested, for he would have sent word if he had been. Sebastien weighed the purse of money uneasily in his hand. Antonio had no money with him. Where could he be?


	10. The Truth

**Chapter 10**

**The Truth  
><strong>

Viola reported the bare outlines of her interview with Olivia to Orsino, telling him that she had, as usual, told the lady the full tale of his love, and the lady had, as usual, firmly denied that she would ever love him. She tried to convince him, "Your grace, she grows weary of me importuning her with your words. Would it not be a kindness to accept it and cease?"

His eyes were shadowed, but his jaw was stubborn. "I do not give up, Cesario."

She was very quiet all the rest of the day as they worked, and in the evening he asked, "Are you displeased with me, Cesario?"

Viola hesitated. "No, your grace, but I think you are unwise in this instance."

"Do you grow weary of bearing my words to her?" Anxiety flared in his eyes. "Do you desire another position?"

"Oh, _no,_ my lord! I would rather not go on bothering Lady Olivia so often, but I would do anything rather than give up my position with you!"

Relief was evident on his face, and he flung an arm around her shoulders. "I am glad. I have come to depend on you a good deal, Cesario, both as my secretary and as my friend. I would not entrust my suit to anyone else."

She smiled at him. "In truth, my lord, I was concerned for something on my own account. I have always been—well, I must admit to having been rather a coward, and I have never learned to use this sword that I wear. My—my brother grew quite proficient with the sword and loved to fight, but I was his opposite in that and preferred study to action. But today I realized that I truly should learn it for my own protection."

"Did something happen?"

"Aye, my lord. Some rash gentleman, made jealous by my audiences with the Lady Olivia—though in truth I have never done anything to make anyone jealous—attacked me and demanded that I fight him. I would rather have run, but there was nothing for it, so I prepared to badly lose a fight. At the last moment another man came running up and protected me, probably seeing that I did not know what I was doing. But I think it is time I learn what to do."

"Hmm." He turned to face her and look down on her pale head. "Perhaps there is more valiance in facing what you fear than in not fearing it to begin with, my lad. I shall hunt up my old swordplay tutor and ask him to teach you, and perhaps when you gain some skill, you and I shall have a few rounds." He laughed at the skepticism in her face. "I promise I'll be gentle with you, lad. At first, at least."

"There is more, my lord."

"What is it?"

"The man who came to my aid—I had never seen him before, but he claimed to know me very well, and I would have said he lied but for his immense sorrow when I denied him. I think perhaps he was mad. Two of your officers came up just then and arrested him, for what charge I do not know, and because he was kind to me, I have a great interest in his fate."

"I have next week a good many prisoners to judge; I shall attempt to have him before me at the same time. Does that seem good to you?"

"Very good, my lord, and I thank you."

Orsino continued to look pensive. "I wonder what I shall do, most worthy Cesario, when you marry? For you say that you love, and while I doubt that a woman of my years will have such a lad as you to husband, marry you must some day, and so I shall lose the best parts of my secretary and confidant, for your thoughts and devotion will be elsewhere."

"My lord," Viola said timidly, "I think that I shall never love a woman so well as I do your grace."

The duke laughed and clapped her on the back; she hid her wince. "That is because you have not yet truly loved. Just you wait. It will come stealing on you and take you unawares, and before you know it, you will be caught, never to be released."

_Well I know how love takes one unawares. Had I any thought of loving you when I came, I probably would not have come._


	11. The Betrayal

**Chapter 11**

**The Betrayal  
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Antonio sat, dejected, in his prison cell. He had had a lonely life, that of a ship captain without family. He had never taken a wife, for he felt it would be unfair to any woman to be always sitting at home while her husband left for long, dangerous months. The affair in which he had run afoul of Duke Orsino's men was typical of his life, a mere squabble over waters and territory that had escalated into a full battle not of his choosing. That the duke's nephew had been there and had been badly wounded had been simply Antonio's bad fortune and no ill will. When he had pulled Sebastien from the sea, clinging to a spar and half dead, he had had no thought but to be of assistance to one more unfortunate than he, but soon he had seen in the young man a chance at companionship. He had never had a younger brother to look after and teach and share his life with, and he had thought he had found one.

How could he have known how unworthy the young man would prove? What an actor he was! Why, even Antonio had almost been startled into believing him when, in danger, he protested that he had never met him before, there was such truth on his face. Now he had made off with Antonio's money and his trust, and for a little while, Antonio didn't care what happened to him in Duke Orsino's prison.


	12. The Marriage

**Chapter 12**

**The Marriage  
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During the next week, Viola made two more trips to Lady Olivia's house and found that the lady's manner was markedly different. For one thing, she had ceased wearing black; instead, she wore elegant, pale-colored gowns that set off her dark curls and delicate complexion. And she stopped speaking of herself and 'Cesario' and listened politely but disinterestedly to what Viola had to say. Sometimes she seemed to look with pity on Viola while she spoke of Orsino's love, and when the speech was done, she would give a sigh as if in relief that it was over and smile in a way that seemed decidedly conspiratorial. "Take him my usual answer, my poor young man, though indeed I hardly need to say it. You know it well," she would say with a look that seemed to say much more than words, though Viola was at a loss to know what. Once she gave her a broad wink as she left, which Viola returned with a stare of astonishment. She had no idea what to make of this new mood, but it pleased her much more than the lady's open wooing.

For of course Sebastien had been to visit Olivia many times that week, and though he had never so much as kissed her, he believed he was thoroughly in love with her. He generally came at about tea time and stayed several hours. The first couple of times, Olivia had mentioned seeing him earlier that day, which bewildered him, for he spent many hours every day searching for Antonio and did not go near Olivia's house until the afternoon.

The second time she mentioned it, he exclaimed, "Good lady, why do you speak of these visits? I protest—"

"I beg your pardon," she interrupted him. "It must pain you to think of those particular visits. I will speak of them no more." And she did not, which pleased him because he did not wish to think her mad or toying with him.

One day, Olivia asked, "My dear Cesario" (which she still called him about half the time), "why do you not come earlier in the day so that our hours of sweet speech together may be longer?"

"Would that I could! But I cannot, dear lady. My dearest friend in all the world, who was in this city the first day I was here, has disappeared, and since I do not have the resources to hire men to search for him, I must do it myself. I have only a certain amount of money that he gave me to hold for him, and I will not use it."

"Why did you not tell me before? It would give me the greatest pleasure to help you find your dear friend so that he may be my dear friend as well, Cesario! I will immediately hire the best men in the city, and they shall search for you."

"I shall not give up the search, but if there are men to help me, my search may be shortened, and I may have more time for you. My highest gratitude goes to you, my lady."

"Good Cesario, it is not your gratitude that I desire."

"I know what you desire, Lady Olivia, and you have that as well." With that he took her hand in his and kissed it, then left quickly, before his love overcame his judgment.

The next day, a man approached him in the city. "Sir, I believe you are Cesario, known as Sebastien?"

"I am Sebastien, at least," he answered.

"The Lady Olivia has engaged me to search out a man for you. I need from you his description and all particulars relating to him."

Sebastien described Antonio thoroughly as well as the danger to him in the city, and the man bowed. "If he is still in the city, I can promise that I will have found him by tomorrow."

"Many thanks to you, friend."

"Your servant, sir."

Sebastien made his way to Olivia's a little early that day, and he found her speaking earnestly to a priest. Seeing him, she broke away and came toward him, blushing a little.

"You must not blame me, dear Cesario, for being over hasty. I have called this priest, and if you are willing, he shall make the connection of love between us solid and real before God."

"If I am willing? You do but jest. Of course I am willing! You are the queen and sovereign of my heart, and you shall command the hour of our joining."

"Then let it be now, and you shall ever be my good lord, and my person and all of my lands shall be yours. Father," she called to the priest, "let us go to the chapel."

In an hour, Lady Olivia's wish was fulfilled, for she was, as she thought, her 'Cesario's' wife, and Sebastien was made by marriage her lord, Count Sebastien, a title somewhat less than the one he might have inherited from his father but no less honored by him. When they had finished, she walked the priest out to give him thanks and gifts, and Sebastien was left alone for a few minutes, scarcely able to believe the change of fortunes that had come to him. Hardly a minute had passed before the butler ushered in a man to see him. It was the man who had been hired to find Antonio. Sebastien sprang up to meet him.

"Have you news for me?" he demanded.

"I do, my lord, and had you gone to the captain of the duke's guards in the first place, you would have discovered it yourself. Your friend Antonio has been in prison these eight days—"

"In prison? Why did he not send word to me? I must go to him immediately. Pray you, stay here and tell my lady the news when she returns."

He sped out of the room and did not hear the man protesting, "But my lord, he is not there!"


	13. The Confrontation

**Chapter 13**

**The Confrontation  
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Orsino said, "Cesario, today I go to hold public court. We will find out what we may about your protector."

"Thank you, my lord. I have thought about him often this week. He had a good face, and if he is mad, I hope he may be made whole through kindness."

It was the duke's custom to hold an open court in the public square twice a year. On those days, he tried many very poor prisoners, and also many brought to him their private squabbles, and he judged between them, and all said that he showed a great wisdom beyond his years. A chair was set for him under a large tree, and Viola stood beside him and kept notes on all the proceedings.

Before he commenced, Orsino called all the officers to him and asked them, "Which of you were those who arrested a man some eight days ago who had come to my secretary's aid in a quarrel?"

"We are, sir," two of them answered.

"When the judging of all the prisoners is done, I want him brought to me."

They bowed and left for the prison.

The hours were long that Viola stood beside the duke and wrote, but she found it very interesting and did not begrudge them. She took a great interest in the prisoners and their cases, the things that drove them to crime, whether it was hunger and poverty or their own ill natures, and the way Orsino questioned them. He was firm but not harsh, and he could always tell if someone was lying to him. Often if he could find something in a poor prisoner's character to redeem him, he showed him mercy that he would not receive in another court.

The shadows were growing long in the square by the time most of the people had been dismissed and Antonio was brought before him.

"This is the man, sir, who rescued me," Viola said.

"Why, I know his face. Though at that time it was as black as Vulcan from the battle soot on it. He was captain of a vessel that set upon one I was on and her sister ship, commanded by my nephew. Well, sir pirate, salt-water thief, what foolishness has drawn you to the place where rule the enemies you have made?"

Antonio drew himself up proudly. "Orsino, noble sir, I will have none of the names you have given me. I am neither a pirate nor a thief, though perhaps I am your enemy. I merely protected that which was mine. As to why I am here, I came with that ungrateful boy beside you. I rescued him from a stormy sea and gave him back his life, and for love of him I followed him here, a danger to me, as you can see. When he was attacked, I went to his defense, and he, not wanting to go with me into danger as I had gone into danger with him, denied that he knew me, denied me the purse I had given him just shortly before."

It was only the anger and pain in his eyes that kept Viola from retorting hotly that he was mad. "This is impossible," she said gently.

Orsino examined Antonio closely. "When did he come to this city?"

"Eight days ago, and for nearly five months before that he was with me every moment."

"Antonio, your words are madness. This lad has been with me here in Illyria for the last five months—"

Before he could continue, there was a great commotion, and Sir Andrew and Sir Toby entered, leaning on each other and bleeding, both in the forehead. Sir Andrew shouted, "A surgeon! Bring a surgeon!"

"What has happened?" Orsino inquired as several hands reached out to help them.

"He's broken my head across, and Sir Toby's, too! With no provocation he assaulted us!"

"Who has done this?"

"Your secretary, my lord, that boy standing there! We took him for a coward, but he's the very devil incarnate!"

_"My_ secretary? Cesario?"

"That very one. Whatever did we do to him?"

"I never gave you any hurt!" Viola protested. "You attacked me and I tried to speak fairly to you, but you would have none of it, and that was more than a week ago."

"Gentlemen, my secretary has been with me all this day. Who can have made this havoc with them?" Orsino wondered. "They seem as mad as Antonio. Officers, take them aside and find a surgeon to see to them. We'll deal with them shortly, but there is Antonio first." He turned to the patient prisoner, but then he spied Olivia coming into the square, accompanied by her maid. He smiled. "Now heaven walks on earth. Antonio, we shall deal with you later. Take him aside," he told the officers.

Olivia came up to them, made her courtesy to the duke, and addressed Viola. "Cesario, where have you been?"

"Gracious Olivia—" Orsino began.

"Please my lord," she said with a peremptory hand. "Cesario, why do you not speak to me?"

"Why should I speak?" Viola asked blankly. "My lord wishes to speak, so I am silent."

"If it is anything like the old tune, it is as attractive to me as a dog howling."

"Still so cruel?" Orsino murmured.

"Still so constant," Olivia retorted.

"Constant to what? Obstinacy? I have given you my soul's most faithful offerings and gained nothing for my pains. Marble-breasted tyrant, I think I see why you have so often refused me. There is some other one that you love, someone who has pushed me from my place in your favor. Who is it? That swain who attacked my young secretary? Or perhaps my young secretary himself, who has seen you many more times in the last months than I have? Ah, I see the truth in your face. I shall remove him, whom, by heaven, I love dearly, from your eyes and send him there no more. Come, lad, or I may go mad myself and do you harm for merely being attractive to that lady."

"I will go with you willingly," Viola said, not even looking at Olivia, "and to give you rest I would die a thousand deaths." She started after him.

"Where are you going?" Olivia demanded.

"After him I love more than I love these eyes, more than my life, more than I shall ever love a woman."

"Cesario, my husband, do not say these words!"

Orsino wheeled. "_Husband?"_

"Husband?" Viola echoed dumbly. "No, not I, my lord."

"Do you fear to admit it before your master?" Olivia said with softened tone. "Do not fear, dear Cesario. Take up the title of count that is now yours. You need serve him no more."

"I protest! I do not know what you mean! Have I ever given you anything but denials, the same denials you gave my lord?"

"Has madness taken the whole of Illyria? Can it be that you have gone mad as well?" Orsino inquired of Olivia.

"Mad!" she cried. "Maria, run to the priest's house, just across the street there, and bring him back. He will be my proof."

They silently watched the maid hurry away and knock on the door of the priest's house. Viola, refusing to look at Olivia, glanced up at Orsino, but he would not look at her, his arms crossed and his face dark. The priest came back with Maria, and Olivia seized his arm.

"Good Father, reveal to all here what has passed between this young man and myself today!"

He looked wonderingly on them, seeing the brooding count, the pale 'Cesario,' the furious Olivia, the two men groaning and bleeding, the bewildered officers and Antonio off to the side. "Why, a covenant of eternal love, confirmed by the joining of hands and the taking of vows. All this I have witnessed and presided over, and it was very few hours ago. What is the matter, that it is called into question?"

Orsino's eyes blazed fury into Viola's. "You—you lying cub! Was the friendship between us nothing that you could find it so easy to take what I have long desired? You have made deceit an art form in your appearance of goodness and truth! You made me think indeed that you were loyal to me, and often I have soothed myself with your companionship, and it was all for nothing?"

"No, my lord!" she cried. "Do not think this of me! Nothing could supplant you in my loyalty!"

"So you say so easily, but here is this priest bringing your actions to speak against you. Were you any other man, I would kill you, but even now I do not have the heart to do so, would that I did! Farewell, Cesario. Take your _wife,_ but go where you and I may never meet again."

"Do not send me away from you, my lord!" She found herself weeping, seizing his sleeve. "I know nothing of this priest! I want nothing of this lady. My good lord, I desire to serve no one but you!" He shook her off, and in desperation she knelt before him, sobbing. "Please, my lord! Do not send me away! If necessary, I will give proof that I can never have taken her to wife nor have desired to, proof I have never wanted to reveal but that I will do to show my love and loyalty, my lord!"

"Olivia!" The voice rang across the square, and yet another figure dashed up, panting, to crown the day with its greatest confusion yet.


	14. The Reunion

**Chapter 14**

**The Reunion  
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Sebastien had hurried as quickly as he could to the prison, hoping the purse of money he carried was enough to get Antonio out. On the way, coming around a corner, he barreled into Sir Toby and Sir Andrew and knocked them down; Sir Andrew, furious, sprang up and challenged him. Not having the time to fight him in a gentlemanly manner, he simply knocked their heads together and continued on his way, only to find the prison almost empty and Antonio no longer there. The warden directed him to the public square. Arriving out of breath, he scanned the gathering and first saw Olivia, the brightest and fairest figure there. He called out to her and hurried up.

"Madam, I fear I have hurt your kinsman, but if he had been my own brother I would have had to do the same. Still, I regret it, if only for the vows we took today, making him my kinsman as well, and I beg your pardon."

Olivia stared at him, dazed.

Orsino muttered, "One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons . . . What madness is this?"

Sebastien gave him a quizzical look, then took a moment to look around the square. A tall man who must be the duke, a huddled figure at his feet, some suppliant for mercy no doubt, and there, standing a little away, Antonio! He dashed over to his friend and embraced him. "Antonio, O my dear Antonio! I have searched for you all over this city, and how the hours have tortured me since I lost you!"

"Are you Sebastien?" asked Antonio, his eyes nearly starting out of his head.

"Do you have any reason to doubt it?" he laughed.

"How have you become two people? The two sides of an apple cut in half could not be more similar."

Viola had slowly risen to her feet, the tears still making tracks down her face, the sun making her hair golden. Sebastien slowly turned around, his eyes following Antonio's to her, and he staggered and grabbed his friend's arm. Identical faces stared at each other, hands went in identical gestures to brush bewilderment out of golden-brown eyes.

"Do I stand there?" he whispered. "I never had a brother, and I cannot be in two places at once. But I had a sister who, wearing my clothes, looked exactly so, but she is dead, drowned in the cruel sea." He took a couple steps toward the figure that seemed a ghost out of the past.

"I had a brother named Sebastien who was enough like me for us to be the same person," Viola said, her heart pounding. "But he is drowned in that same sea." She took a couple steps toward the figure who seemed a cruel spirit, come to play upon her grief.

"My sister was named Viola."

"Were it not for these clothes of his that I wear, I could prove that Viola is my name and that I once was Sebastien's sister, before he was swept away and I was rescued from the sea."

"And I am Sebastien, rescued out of the sea."

Then they were in each other's arms, and neither wept less than the other and clung as if the sea would sweep them apart again while all the others simply stared, scarcely able to understand, yet realizing that all the riddles and all the seeming madness were somehow here explained. After what seemed a long time, Orsino went up to the weeping pair and laid a hand on each of their shoulders. They parted to look up at him, and for a moment he could not tell which was which, but then he spied something in one of their faces, a familiar look in a pair of golden-brown eyes, and then he wondered how he could ever have mistaken them. For were not Cesario's eyes still the same eyes he had known for five months? And the other's face was unreadable to him, completely unfamiliar to an observant eye.

"Will you not tell us what this all means? For I seem to see two Cesarios before me."

"And I two husbands," Olivia said.

"And I two Sebastiens," Antonio echoed.

Viola stepped away from Sebastien to kneel before Orsino again. "My lord, I must beg your forgiveness, for I have deceived you all these long months. Not in my loyalty but in my sex, for I am Viola, and this man's sister."

He took her hand and gently raised her. "Then manifestly you are not married to Lady Olivia, and for that I could forgive you anything."

"It is I who am married to the Lady Olivia, your grace," Sebastien said, "and I know nothing of what your part might be in that."

Orsino closed his eyes and took a deep breath, postponing his emotion for later. "I think we all have many tales to tell. Let us go to my house and make them known. Officers, loose Antonio's bonds so that he may come also."

It was a silent party that headed to the duke's palace, Viola and Sebastien's arms around each other, Orsino and Olivia on either side of them, and Antonio following close behind Sebastien. The twins constantly gave each other joyous glances, but Olivia glanced from one to the other with bewilderment and uneasiness, and the duke's face was unreadable. They entered the house and came to a small sitting room, and Orsino ordered tea to be brought. They sat in comfortable chairs, Viola and Sebastien together on a couch, unwilling to be parted again, and the others in chairs separate from each other but drawn close to hear the tales.

The twins told the tale of their parentage and loss of nobility, their travelings and the final storm that made both believe the other had died. Sebastien told how Antonio had saved him and Viola how the captain of the ship had prevented her from drowning. Viola told how she had received work as the duke's secretary, and she told Sebastien briefly of Orsino's love for Olivia. Then Olivia, quietly and with an embarrassed face, told how she, who had been unmoved by Orsino, had been instantly drawn to Cesario. Sebastien brought in the tale of how he and Antonio had arrived in Illyria and been separated, and Antonio explained to him and Viola how he had mistaken the sister for the brother when she was assaulted by Sir Andrew and Sir Toby. Sebastien gave all the tale of his dealings with Olivia and Olivia how she had gone to search him out when the man she had hired told her he had run in the wrong direction to find Antonio. Then all was told, and they all sat back quietly to drink some tea and puzzle out all the twists and turns of the tale.

"'Twould seem a wrong and strange thing that your liking should have been given to a maid, Olivia," Sebastien said, "but I blame it not the slightest, for I know it was what brought me to you. Is it possible that you can accept me, your husband, in place of the one you thought you loved?"

"You have given me much more joy than Cesario—your sister—Viola did, Sebastien," she said. "For she rightly put me off many times, and I should have been wise and listened to her, but you have been ever kind and loving." She put her hand in his, and he kissed it.

"And now I know," he said, "why everyone seemed mad in this city, calling me Cesario and seeming to know me."

"And I know why the young man I helped did not know me and seemed so heartless," Antonio smiled, putting out a hand to Viola.

She placed hers in it and smiled. "I have much to thank you for, sir, for preserving my brother. My debt to you will ever be greater than I can repay."

Orsino had not moved or spoken in all the talk, sitting slightly in shadow and refusing any tea. Now he leaned forward. "In all of this, we have, each of us, save Sebastien, done wrong to his sister. For Antonio unjustly accused her of ingratitude, and Olivia distressed her by calling her husband, and I most foully refused to believe her, whom I should have known by heart, and spoke most cruelly." He rose in a swift motion and bent his knee before her. "Lady, I pray you may forgive me."

Viola, horrified, took his hands and tried to pull him to his feet. "Do not kneel to me, my lord! I want no apologies from you. I want only what I have always had from you, to be your secretary and your friend, to work with you in the day and play for you in the evening and walk with you at night and be what companion and comfort I may. My lord, though I am a woman, do not send me away but let me continue serving you. For Sebastien will be near me, to my joy, but he is now married and has other duties and other pleasures than always attending on his sister."

He rose and put a hand on her shoulder. "I would not so soon lose what I have found in you, Cesario, for I have never had a more loyal companion. I shall grant your request, though it is more for my own benefit than for yours."

Now Olivia nudged Sebastien, and he surrendered his place to her. She took Viola's hand. "I would ask your forgiveness as well, Cesa—Viola. I have been unkind to you, and my words to you today caused you much distress. I wish we could be sisters, for I have always wanted a sister."

Viola hugged her. "You are my sister, and I will love you doubly as a sister to make up for not being able to love you as a husband."

"I, too, give apology for my words to you," Antonio put in. "And to Sebastien, for doubting your friendship."

"Then all is made clear," Orsino said, "save for one thing, and that is your fate, Antonio."

Antonio, Sebastien, and Viola all looked at him apprehensively.

"You protest that you are no pirate, and indeed it is possible that my hot-head of a nephew rushed into a fight he was not clear on. The truth of the matter is not known, but your valiance and loyalty are. If only for the deed of restoring Sebastien to his sister, you are welcome where he and she are. I bid you stay in Illyria with them, if that is your desire, or to come and go freely as you choose."

"Your grace, I thank you and will no longer proclaim you my enemy, and if I cannot call you my friend, then at least I will call you my benefactor."

Now that all was cleared up, Viola, Sebastien, Olivia, and Antonio began to talk more and to tell the minutiae of their adventures. Orsino sat silently on the edge of the group for some time before at last rising and walking quietly out of the room, thinking himself unnoticed. After some minutes, however, Viola whispered to her brother, rose, and went out as well.

She found Orsino, as she knew she would, in his music room, sitting on his sofa by the pianoforte in the last traces of evening light. His elbows were on his knees, and his hands were over his face, and his shoulders shook. Every molecule of her being wanted to fly to him, put her arms around him, comfort him in some way that every woman knows how, but instead she walked to the instrument and began to play. It was completely dark when the soft sound of his tears stopped, and after some time he said, "You tried to convince me long ago to give up my insane hope, Cesario. I should have listened to your wisdom."

"You cannot be less than you are, my lord. Your faithfulness is part of you."

"Call it rather stubbornness. But we'll speak no more of it. 'Tis done and not undoable, and that's the end. Walk with me outside and tell me what you thought of the judging today."


	15. The Secretary

**Chapter 15**

**The Secretary  
><strong>

It was a week before Orsino realized that Viola had retained her man's attire, though in truth, he had noticed little during that week. He had been working as hard as possible, trying to keep his mind off everything that had happened, demanding more work both from himself and from those around him. It made his advisors and ministers happy, but Viola was becoming exhausted.

For only the second time in the week, Viola was playing the pianoforte, but her eyelids kept drooping. Orsino said, "Your playing is not the same tonight, Cesario" (he had not yet gotten out of the habit of calling her that). "Are you alright?"

"Yes, my lord," she murmured.

He picked up a candlestick and came close to her, really looking at her for the first time in many days. "No, you are not. I've worked you too hard, lad. And I cannot break the habit of calling you _lad._ Perhaps it is because you are still wearing your brother's clothes. You need no longer conceal the truth. Why do you not wear women's garb?"

"I do not have any," she said simply.

"Can you not borrow some? From—from your sister, perhaps?"

"She is much shorter than I am, my lord. They would not fit."

"I see. Well, get you to bed. And, Cesario?"

"My lord?"

"If it becomes too late, I beg you to command me to stop and let you sleep."

There was a smile in her voice as she answered, "As you wish, my lord."

The next day he made no mention of her male attire, but on the morning after that, she opened her door to find a box outside it. It proved to contain a gown, a simple yet elegant cream-colored dress, and she put it on, unbinding her figure for the first time and reveling in the soft coolness of the beautiful material and the way it flowed gracefully to the ground. She hadn't realized how much she missed wearing dresses.

The others in Orsino's household had quickly learned, of course, the truth about Cesario, whom they had all come to like, and while she had felt a slight coolness in them for the first day or so, eventually they all seemed to forget it as much as the duke had. But when she came down in the morning in the dress that brought out the golden highlights in her eyes, with her hair, which had grown somewhat longer in the last months, swept up in a simple yet feminine knot, and the stride that had unconsciously reverted from Sebastien's to her own, and the way she carried herself, without knowing it, as if she were nobility, they stopped, stared, and to a man, bowed. The butler prepared to sweep open the doors to the morning room Viola had long been accustomed to taking breakfast with the duke in, and he had never done that for Cesario. But he stopped and whispered to her, "What is your right name?"

"Viola of Messaline," she answered with a smile.

He opened the doors with a grand gesture and announced, "Lady Viola of Messaline!"

Orsino quickly rose, as any gentleman does when a lady enters, wondering what lady would come to visit him early in the morning. Then he stared and put his hand down on the table to keep from stumbling, scattering the papers there all over the floor. "Heavens above! Cesario!"

"That is I, my lord." She helped him restore the papers to their place and sat down, helping herself to breakfast. "What do we have before us today, my lord?"

They went to work as usual, but often during the day Viola noticed Orsino looking up and staring at her with a quizzical expression. Finally she asked, "Why do you keep examining me, your grace?"

"Well . . . you're a _woman,_ Cesario!"

"Yes, sir, and I have been all this week, and for five months before that, and all my life before that. You gave me a dress, my lord. Surely you were not in doubt of it?"

"No, but it was never quite real. Like a great joke. You didn't—" he gestured at her helplessly "—_look_ like a woman."

"Perhaps I should go put on my brother's clothes again."

"No, it is not necessary. It simply takes a little while to become accustomed to it."

When Viola went to visit Sebastien and Olivia that day, as she had every day, Olivia seized her hands and gazed at her. "You are beautiful! I have often wished you would wear some proper clothes, my dear sister. I have sometimes had a moment's trouble deciding which was husband and which was sister." She laughed at the joke on herself.

Sebastien hugged his sister. "You do look lovely indeed, Viola. I wonder," he lowered his voice, "if others besides us have observed it."

Her cheeks flamed, but she said innocently, "The duke's butler was very civil to me this morning."

He gave her an exasperated look. "And what of the butler's master? Do you think he has noticed that his secretary is a beautiful young woman?"

Her voice was sober when she answered, "He certainly noticed that I am not male, Sebastien, but he is far too much in grief to take notice of much else."

"I wonder. You cannot hide your mind and heart from me, Viola. You never have been able to, nor I mine from you. You love your master, you who have often been five months in the company of others without desiring to call them friends on so short an acquaintance."

"I do, Sebastien, but it means nothing, and it will come to nothing, for he still loves your wife, as much as he tries to hide it. Please speak no more of it."

He kissed her forehead and agreed.


	16. The Holiday

**Chapter 16**

**The Holiday  
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The next month went on much as the previous five had, except that Orsino sent Viola no more to Olivia and said nothing to her about her visits to her brother and new sister, except to inquire after Sebastien and Antonio. He worked as hard as ever, and on at least two occasions she surprised him late at night with a stern command for him to get his rest. She wondered how much sleep he was getting and whether his health was going to give out. He took few walks in the moonlight anymore and took little exercise except on the occasions when, as promised, he tested her newly-emerging sword skills. For Viola had indeed taken up the sword with the duke's old tutor and continued the lessons even though she was no longer in danger of being attacked by jealous gentlemen. She discovered to her astonishment that she was enjoying them. These last months had changed her in many ways. And one was that she had no compunctions about telling the duke what to do.

One evening she sent him to bed early. She dismissed his musicians and attendants and would not listen to any protestations on his part that he had a hundred thousand things to do yet. Late in the night, there was a tap at her door, and she flew up out of bed, wrapped a robe around herself, and opened it a crack. The duke stood there with a candle, and she immediately jumped to terrifying conclusions.

"My lord! Is everything alright? Is Sebastien—is there anything wrong?"

"No, no. I beg pardon for frightening you. Truth be told, sleep has come badly to me for some nights past. Will you come play for me?"

She laughed in relief and at the forlorn look on his face. "Of course, my lord. Give me just a moment." She shut the door and hastily pulled on the nearest clothes, Sebastien's shirt and trousers that she still wore on occasion, then stepped out.

Orsino's candle lighted their way as they walked through the dark corridors, both barefooted, to the music room. He set the candle near the pianoforte to give her light and lay down on his sofa in the darkness. Viola played gentle and flowing airs for about an hour, and when she had heard no sound from Orsino in some time, she stopped, listened. The quiet sound of even breathing was all there was to be heard; he slept with an arm flung over his eyes and one leg falling off the sofa. Viola gently slid a cushion under his head, pulled the curtains closed over the tall windows, took the candle, and went back to bed.

Early in the morning she was awake. She threw on Sebastien's clothes again, pulled on riding boots, and hurried down the stairs to Orsino's study where she seized keys, a number of sheets of his personal stationery, ink, and a quill. Hurrying down into the kitchen, she found the rest of the staff gathered for their breakfast. To their surprise, she sat down with them and began writing and talking at the same time.

"The duke is on his way to working himself to death and all of us as well. It is for us who take care of him to prevent that. I am writing letters in his name to his advisors and nobles, telling them all official work is called off for the day. Benuto," she addressed a page, "do you run them to their homes as soon as you finish your breakfast. Curio," she said to the butler, "if any of them come anyway, as like they will, inform them that the duke is out, and do not on any account admit them to his presence. Fabian, will you prepare a luncheon and supper for two that may be packed into saddlebags? His grace must be out in the open air. John, pray prepare his horse and another for me for a day's ride in the countryside, and Arturo, lay out a riding suit for him. Master Demeter, I would beg of you two foils to go in the saddlebags as well."

They all made their assents, and Fabian, the cook, served her some breakfast while she wrote the rest of her letters. When all had finished, Fabian and Viola put a tray of breakfast together for the duke, and she carried it away. The men all looked at each other and broke into smiles.

"'Tis good to have a woman here again," Curio voiced their thoughts.

Viola took the tray up to the music room and found Orsino there, still asleep as she had thought, looking as though he had not moved all night. She pulled a small table up near the sofa, set the tray on it, and went to pull the curtains open. Morning sunlight streamed in, turning her hair to gold and pouring warmth onto the recumbent form of the duke. He stirred, opened an eye, shut it against the sun, and finally opened both of them. After a few moments of staring around uncomprehendingly, he sat up.

"What in the name of all the saints am I doing in here?"

"You fell asleep in here last night, my lord," Viola answered, grinning at him. His hair, which, since he had abandoned care of his appearance this last month, was a little longer than usual, was standing up at odd angles from his head, and his shirt and trousers were wrinkled and twisted about. She poured him a cup of tea and handed it to him. "You were unable to rest, so I played for you and had not the heart to awaken you when you fell asleep."

He moved his shoulders uncomfortably. "I feel as if I had been beaten." He gave her a suspicious look. "You didn't beat me during the night, did you?"

Viola laughed. "I don't remember doing so, my lord. A sofa is not normally considered a place for sleeping. Eat your breakfast, and you will soon be feeling better."

"Hmm." He pulled the tray toward him. "Are you going to have some?"

"I have already breakfasted. But I will have some tea." She poured out for herself.

Orsino consumed his breakfast as if he hadn't eaten in a week. When he was done, he gave her a sharp look. "Why do I seem to think that you are plotting something?"

"I do not know. Why do you think so?"

"Because I know you, Cesario."

"Perhaps you should go dress, my lord?"

He scowled at her and rose. "I will be only a few minutes. Get things ready in my study."

It was indeed only a few minutes later that the house rang with Orsino shouting, "Cesario! Where are you, blast you?"

She came out of the music room, where she had stayed after he left, not bothering to go up to the study. "Here, your grace."

He stormed down the stairs. "Why is my study locked? And why did my valet refuse to bring me any clothes but these?" gesturing to his elegant riding breeches, jacket, and boots.

"You are having a well-deserved holiday, my lord. No papers, no meetings, no judgments, no _work._"

Orsino came close to her and stared down at her from his intimidating height. "Give me my keys, or I will take them."

"Will you search me, my lord?" She spread her arms apart from her body and looked up at him inquiringly from under her eyelashes.

"No, I will not! I command you to give them to me! Are you my servant or my master?"

"I am your servant, my lord, and servants _serve_, and at the moment my priority is your health and welfare. If I do not serve you in these, how can I serve you in other areas?"

At that moment, John the groom came in and bowed. "The horses are prepared, my lord, and Fabian has sent along his creations."

"Horses? Fabian?"

John quietly edged away.

"You need a rest, and I do not mean simply sleep, and you need fresh air and physical activity and time spent without thinking about your woes and your work. The fact that you have done nothing but snap at me this morning is proof. I ordered riding clothes and horses and food to that end."

They glared at each other for a moment, and then Orsino began to realize that most of the rest of his attendants had gathered, as if to give Viola support. "Are all of you part of this plot?"

"Yes, your grace," Curio answered. He and all the others had heard the altercation without so much as cracking a smile, though all greatly wanted to.

Finally Orsino began to laugh. He laughed long until he had to lean on Viola for support. "He who has a servant has a master, is it not so, Cesario?" he said at last, still chuckling. "I give you the slightest leeway, and you become a tyrant."

She answered severely, "I have no desire to be your nurse as well as your secretary, my lord."

"Well, come along then, secretary. To the horses! As for the rest of you—" he wheeled suddenly on them. "If I must have a day with no work, so must you. No meals, except to feed yourselves as you choose. The palace will not crumble to dust for lack of cleaning on one day. If I return home and find that a single one of you has failed to enjoy himself, he shall have Cesario to deal with!"

He turned and stalked out, and when the doors slammed behind him, the whole household burst into uncontrollable laughter—even staid and dignified Curio.

Orsino swung into the saddle of his tall grey stallion, and Viola pulled herself up onto the only slightly smaller brown horse John had saddled for her.

"Lead on, Viola," the duke said, and when she turned to stare at him, startled at his use of her real name, he grinned at her. "What, did you think I had forgotten that there is more to you than Cesario, my young secretary?"

"Ah, but today that is all I am, my lord. No more than I was for five months in your company."

They moved their horses around the palace and down the road leading to the back gates. When they came out from the walls, there was a sudden gust of wind as the bare hills spread out before them, and a glint of the sea could be seen far off. Orsino pulled up his horse and lifted his face to the wind.

"Ah, I have missed this. You are wise, as usual, young secretary." He was silent for a little while as he spurred his horse on again, and then he said, "I think you have changed this past month since your brother returned to you. Perhaps become more like the Viola you were than the Cesario you had to be? Your eyes have lost their sorrow, and you are not so quiet as the young lad who came to me six months ago. You are much more free with me than before."

"I do not know, my lord. I scarcely remember the Viola I was so long ago. It seems as if a whole lifetime has passed. I think I answer to Cesario more readily than to Viola these days. Those five months changed me far more than this last month has seemed to you. Does it displease you, whatever change may have taken place, my greater freedom with your grace?"

"Not at all. You told me once that your parentage was as good as mine, and I seem to be remembering that more lately. It seems odd that the daughter of a duke should be my servant. You are of Messaline, I hear. Was your father that Sebastien of Messaline who lost his title and lands some odd years ago?"

"He was. The reason I wanted to come serve you was because I had heard him speak highly of you, when you were quite young."

"Do I seem that old to you?"

"Why, no, sir, not in the least. I think you are not even ten years older than I. I am fully three-and-twenty."

He raised an eyebrow. "Not so young as I had thought you. Well, enough of deep conversation. Let us ride!"

They spurred their horses into a canter, surmounting hills and plunging down into valleys. It was a glorious day in early autumn, and there was as yet no chill in the air, though the days were cooler than in the height of summer. They rode for hours, and sometimes they talked, and sometimes they gloried in the open land and the swift motion of their horses and the wind in their faces, and they laughed often. When the sun was high, they stopped and investigated the saddlebags and found that Fabian had supplied them with meat pies and bread and apples and cake and a bottle of wine and another of water. It was better than the most sumptuous feast. In the bags were also the two foils the fencing master had provided, and they had a couple of rounds, laughing when one touched the other with a sword, and laughing when they did not, and ending by collapsing on the grass, breathless from laughing. Viola saw that the wind and high spirits whipped color into Orsino's face again, and he noted the gold of her hair and eyes under the sun.

In the afternoon, they turned back but headed more toward the sea. For a long time they rode along a cliff top, but at last there came a break that they could direct their horses down and come to a sheltered beach. Viola dismounted and tethered her horse, going to stand close to the water.

"I have not been this close to the sea since I came ashore after first losing my brother," she said quietly.

Orsino came up beside her and put his hand on her shoulder. "We both know about loss, do we not, Viola?"

"Aye, my lord."

They were silent a moment, listening to the waves. Then Orsino smiled down at her. "But I had not truly lost what I desired because it was never mine, and you did not truly lose your brother. You only mislaid him. I used to greatly enjoy walking in the sea water, but I have not done so in many years. Perhaps it was too undignified a sport for a duke." He shrugged and bent to pull off his boots and stockings. He placed them by the saddlebags he had removed from the horses and returned to see that Viola had not moved. "Do you not intend to join me?"

"I do not know," she murmured.

"I do."

Without warning, he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder like a sack, removed her boots and stockings and chucked them near his, and walked into the water while she shrieked and beat his back with her fists. When the water was nearly up to his waist, he unslung her from his shoulder and dropped her in. She came up gasping, and as soon as she could speak, she spat, "You are a beast, my lord!"

"That's for presuming to refuse orders this morning." He grinned and began to walk back toward shore, staggering a little in the waves.

Viola stood and eyed him calculatingly. As a wave pulled away from the shore, she began to run, as well as she could in the water, and as another wave washed back in, she hit him with the full force of her momentum at the same moment that the wave did. He crashed his full length into the water and was in a trice as soaked as she was.

"And that," Viola said as he sat up and shook the water out of his eyes, "is for manhandling me, your grace."

Orsino rose and bowed. "I admit I deserve it and shall not respond in kind." He held out his hand to her. "Truce?"

"Truce," she agreed and shook it.

They dried out in the sun, and just as the sun was setting, they gathered driftwood and built a fire. Fabian had put raw potatoes, fresh herbs, and salt in the bottom of the saddlebags, and they rolled the potatoes into the fire and staved off starvation with the last of the meat pies while they roasted. There was nothing better in the world, they agreed, than potatoes roasted in a fire and eaten with herbs as the sun went down. They roasted apples on sticks and watched as all the stars came out, and then they put out the fire with salt water, pulled boots back on, mounted their horses, and rode back up to the top of the cliff.

The great darkness with tiny pinpoints of light spread out all around them, everything hushed in a kind of holy stillness, and far off on the eastern horizon, a sliver of a moon was rising. After a long time of riding without speaking, Viola began to sing quietly.

"I thought you said you could not sing," Orsino said.

"I said I _did_ not sing, my lord. And I did not for a long time."

"I see. Pardon my interruption."

She sang the old songs she had been used to sing with Sebastien, and when he knew one, he joined in. So, singing, they came back at last to the palace. It was completely dark, and when they came to the stables, there was no one about.

"I see that some of my servants are obedient," Orsino smiled. He and Viola unsaddled and curried their horses and gave them food and water, then headed back toward the house. Outside the tall windows that led to the music room, the duke stopped. "I am immensely tired. It has been a delightful day, Cesario, the best I have had in many long months. I thank you." He put his arm around her and hugged her for a long moment. When he had released her, she stood blinking at him like an owl in the moonlight. He said, "May I please have my keys back now? I promise I am going straight to bed."

Viola laughed and fished them out of the pocket of her trousers. "Good night, my lord."


	17. The Proposal

**Chapter 17**

**The Proposal  
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And then they went back to work again the next morning, but it seemed to all that Orsino had recovered and returned to his normal self, except that he was less grave than had been his wont for the last few years. He had his hair trimmed short again and ceased to dismay his valet by being careless about his clothing, and everyone said to each other with relieved smiles, "He is over the Lady Olivia."

Perhaps a week later, Orsino told Viola he wanted to accompany her to Sebastien and Olivia's house. She looked at him with concern in her eyes. "Are you quite sure?"

He smiled. "Yes, I am."

His face when he met Sebastien and Olivia was calm and smiling. He bowed to Olivia and seemed perfectly natural and in good spirits during tea. After tea he said to Sebastien, "Shall we leave the ladies to talk?" and drew him away into the garden where they spent a long time walking up and down and talking earnestly. Viola wondered uneasily of they were talking of Olivia.

But Olivia said, "It relieves me much that his grace seems to be over his obsession. I _did_ pity him a good deal, you know, and it grieved me that he was so stubborn and had to suffer so cruelly."

"Aye," Viola agreed quietly.

When she walked home with the duke later, he made no mention of his conversation with her brother.

The following day, Viola had her cream-colored dress washed, so she wore Sebastien's clothes, which had long since had all the salt from her ducking in the sea washed out. She had not bought any more dresses, though she had enough wages saved to buy ten. She couldn't have said why, save that she was perfectly content as she was—and perhaps that there was a tiny worry that if she started dressing only in gowns and wearing her hair up, Orsino would forget the Cesario who was his friend and confidant.

She had been playing some rousing marches that evening, but after about three, Orsino requested that she play a love song, the one she had greatly disliked some months ago, "Come Away, Come Away, Death." As she played it, she eyed him uneasily, wondering, if he were truly over Olivia, why he wanted such a song, but she could hardly see his face in the darkness. He had lit several candles near the pianoforte but none where he was. He sat on the edge of the sofa instead of sprawled out on it as usual, his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands, his eyes fixed on her face.

After a time, he said in a thoughtful tone, "Have you ever had a grand passion, Cesario?"

Viola kept her eyes on her hands. "I don't think so, my lord." Certainly the obsession he had had for Olivia was not what she felt for him.

"You see a certain person, and a sort of awe of her comes on you all of a sudden. She is the most radiant being in the universe; to be sent from the light of her eyes is torture. She seizes you in a grasp that will not let go; you could become feverish simply thinking about her. The birds sing of her; the stars reflect her beauty; the wind carries her perfume. If you could, you would make you a willow cabin at her gate, and call upon your soul within the house; cry her name to the reverberate hills and make the babbling gossip of the air cry it out as well. And she will not see you, subjecting your soul to agony. Month after month, you send to her, entreat her, beg her with tears for the smallest hint, a glimpse of merely her hand, a single kind word. Perhaps you want to die. And then, in an instant, she betrays you. Or rather your hope betrays you. She bestows that heavenly beauty, that glorious light on another. _He_ will be the one to kiss her hand, to look into her eyes, to rejoice in her love. You truly want to die. Can man handle such pain?"

He spoke in a reflective sort of voice with little emotion, but Viola's tears dripped down onto her hands as she still played. He came and leaned against the pianoforte.

"Then slowly you begin to realize things. You begin to realize how much of it was an obstinate habit, stung pride. How much of it was being in love with love. How much you had clung to a shadow, to an ideal that melted away. How much you, a rational man, had relied upon emotion to drive you and hold you up.

"And you realize other things." He came around to sit on the bench next to her, backward, leaning back against the instrument to look at her with his elbow on the side of the keyboard. "You realize that you have a friend, and for many months you knew her but never really _looked_ at her. She is kind and tender and gentle. She is so fiercely loyal that when you are cruel to her and try to send her away, she begs still to serve you. She goes on the most unpleasant of errands to woo another woman for you. She is wise and funny and soothing. She knows your very soul, and she has never turned away from you. You realize she has told you a thousand times that she will never love a woman as she loves you. You realize that in your obsession you have been selfishly focused on yourself, your own fulfillment, but she has always served you freely, unselfishly, seeing not herself but you. You realize that you want to serve her the same way, to try to do for her what she has done for you. And you realize that there is no one in the world you would rather have for your wife, your love, your lady, your duchess. You realize that the grand passion was nothing to the deepness of your love for her. And you wonder . . ."

Viola had long since ceased playing, her hands trembling too much to continue, the tears pouring down her face. Orsino reached a finger over to her cheek and turned her face toward him.

"And you wonder—and _I_ wonder whether my dearest friend in all the world will consent to be my wife? Whether Cesario my secretary will be Lady Viola, Duchess of Illyria?" He spread his hand on her cheek, and she covered it with her own.

"Only if you will still let me be your secretary," she whispered.

Orsino laughed. "I was going to demand it." He leaned forward and put his forehead on hers. "I love you, Cesario—Viola."

She put her other hand on his cheek. "Cesario, my lord. I'll be Lady Viola, but I'll always be Cesario, your secretary."

Orsino whispered, "Your master quits you, and for your service done him, so much against your feminine heart and beneath your gentle breeding, and since you called me master for so long, here is my hand: you shall from this time be your master's mistress." He hardly had to move to kiss her. And when he said, "Come walk with me outside so we may decide when the golden time will be when a solemn combination of our dear souls shall be made," she went with her hand in his.


	18. The Duchess

**Chapter 18**

**The Duchess  
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Orsino had Sebastien's permission to marry his sister; that had been the purpose of their conversation the day before. In a ceremony that astounded all Illyria, the duke married his secretary, she exquisite in silk and pearls and lace, he resplendent in the black and grey and white of his house. His household, which had long known Cesario, took delight in serving the Lady Viola, though she would scarcely let them do more for her than they had done for Cesario. She always dressed simply, preferring her role as secretary to her role as duchess, but she willingly threw herself into diplomatic duties, delighting in the work. But Orsino never had to engage another secretary.


End file.
